mr roboto
Footballguy
Houston is one of the most impressive ugly cities I’ve ever seen.
Drinking Bullit waiting to board. Gate E6. Come and get it @Ignoramus
Drinking Bullit waiting to board. Gate E6. Come and get it @Ignoramus
Fantasy Football - Footballguys Forums
This is a sample guest message. Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
GM's Thread About Everything/GM's Thread About Nothing (10 Viewers)
- Thread starter General Malaise
- Start date
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
Osaurus
Footballguy
El Floppo
Footballguy
Epic Problem
Footballguy
Ignoramus
Footballguy
Ignoramus
Footballguy
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
The goofiest thing we have going on this year (aside from this gigantic BEST THING EVER program that is killing me*) is this stupid ### butcher paper tree we have in the lounge**. All of the teachers have a "bud" on the tree. Whenever we call home to give a parent some positive news about their kid (and fill out a form saying we did so) we get a petal on the bud.
I have one petal because the first call home was mandatory. Now I have no problem with giving parents positive feedback. But I usually do it via email.
"Just wanted to let you know Braeydin has really improved his grade over the last two weeks..."
"Muhkinzee's behavior has been great since we last talked..."
"Just thought I'd let you know that Jerzee earned a 100% on the chapter 3 test..."
"Rhayngher hasn't tried to put a crayon in his pee-hole in at least two days..."
I always get a big thank you from the parents. It's so damn easy. BUT NO PETALS FOR EMAILS. You must talk to them on the phone. Nobody wants that.
I tried to call three other parents. Two went to voice mail. I left messages but received no response. On the third, it was an out of service number.
I will die happy with one petal. Especially since there are a bunch of people with no petals.
*a rant about the BEST THING EVER would take a Gordon Gekko-like post.
**not related to the giant "family/staff tree" from a few years ago that I attached Shuke's senior pic to
kevzilla
Footballguy
Ron Swanson
Footballguy
I think the area right around Hobby looks the best I have seen it in years. Looks like all new landscaping on the main roads in that area post-Harvey.
If by roads you mean traffic, it seems to be pretty much the same as pre-Harvey now.
shuke
Black Ice Skeptic
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
cosjobs
Footballguy
kevzilla
Footballguy
Henry Ford
Footballguy
cosjobs
Footballguy
GroveDiesel
Footballguy
Osaurus
Footballguy
Yeah. I was only in a couple of neighborhoods where things have improved post-Harvey. Lots of lower income neighborhoods and apartment complexes in the southwest (Bellaire area is one I can remember). Amazed at the poor drainage. Traffic is the same, just not good IMO.
Ignoramus
Footballguy
boom king
Footballguy
Last edited by a moderator:
Good Posting Judge
Footballguy
krista4
Footballguy
@bostonfred, a little help?
I had a dream last night that I was at my boyfriend’s basketball game. I don’t have a boyfriend, so for purposes of this dream retelling let’s call him Fred.
For the first half of the game, I was in an area with metal bench-style seating, where I proceeded to sleep for the entire half. At the end of the half, I realized Fred was going to be mad at me for sleeping through it, so although I was still drowsy I forced myself to get up, at which point I remembered that I had taken off my shirt and needed to find it. I was sleeping under a flannel blanket so had not been showing anything, and I still had my bra on, but I was quite embarrassed to have slept through the first half while in a partial state of undress.
I felt around for my top while still covered with the blanket and found a white cotton top with colorful stitching, like you’d see in many central and south American countries. Sort of like this. I put it on, and immediately the girl behind me pointed out that that was not my top and instead was hers. So I took it off and gave it to her, rooting around again for my own. When I found it, I remembered that instead I had been wearing a dull, oversized, medium-blue knit top. I put this on and then pointedly (and unfairly) asked the girl whose top I’d stolen whether she was happy now.
Fully dressed and awake again, I noticed that in the seats where we were, the view was blocked so that I could only see the area under one of the baskets, and none of the rest of the court. I started walking around trying to find a seat with a better view, but everywhere I went the view was blocked in various ways. For instance, I found a cushy seat right at mid-court, but when I sat down realized I could only see the baskets, with the entire center of the court being blocked by giant casino slot machines. Think of it as sort of like trying to find a good seat in the old Boston Gardens. Finally, after a bunch of failed attempts, I found a nice seat where I could see the action, but it was in the front row and I thought Fred might see me there and wonder why I was sitting in the front row. I took it anyway. Fred played really well in the game, and his team won by 12 points.
After the game, I was outside the locker room waiting for Fred, and I noticed a big bin of stackable trays of post-game food set out for the players. There was fried chicken, egg salad sandwiches, and one other item I’ve forgotten. I was worried because there were only two egg salad sandwiches, and Fred was a vegetarian and it was the only option he could eat. I kept watch here and there in between some wandering around. At some point I noticed there was only one egg salad sandwich left, and I was worried Fred wouldn’t get it.
One of Fred’s teammates/friends then came out of the locker room and started to flirt with me. He was really cute, but nowhere near as beautiful as Fred, whom I adored, so while I responded with a little banter I wanted to be careful not to give the wrong idea. He asked me why, of all the things I could be doing on a Saturday night, I chose to be there. I held my arms out and looked around and said, “And give up all this?” We both found this incredibly clever and hilarious, and laughed and laughed. Then I thought I’d better move on and not use my substantial feminine wiles on him any more than that. I noted that Fred’s friend had an Eastern European accent and that, if I had to place it, I thought he was from Prague. I thought it important that, when I relayed this encounter to Fred, I tell him that I thought the guy had an Eastern European accent.
Fred then came out of the locker room, and there was still one egg salad sandwich there, but he said he didn’t like to eat egg salad so late at night. He didn’t say why but I suspected it might make him gassy.
Fred was in a great mood because he had played well and his team had won. We got in bed (not sure where the bed came from) – fully clothed and just starting to relax; I was at the beginning of giving him a back massage. Suddenly a little Latina girl, maybe 4-5 years old, scooted up into bed with us. She apologized for interrupting but said she was paralyzed from the waist down. I recognized her and told her that yes, I knew her because I’d seen her being carried around by her older sister, who then also appeared in bed along with 3-4 other young sisters of hers.
We all started talking, and one of the girls mentioned that she was having a baby soon, and Fred said, “Of course you are.” I knew that he didn’t mean that to be racist but had some other reason for saying it, but I was worried that it would appear racist. The girls didn’t seem to think that at all either, though. Whew! I was going to ask Fred later why he did say that.
The girl who was having the baby said that she really wanted a onesie for her baby that had a Dr. Seuss theme, but with dachshunds on it. She had a sketch of what she wanted. Fred started extolling my incredible sewing ability and mentioned that I had done a lot of Dr. Seuss work, though none with dachshunds. I felt fantastic that Fred thought so highly of my work, because he had never said anything like that before and seemed sincere. But I was also worried that he was building up my abilities too much, because I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do something with dachshunds. We started working through how I could adapt one of my Dr. Seuss designs to use dachshunds as well.
Then my cat knocked something off the nightstand and woke me up. End of dream.
For the first half of the game, I was in an area with metal bench-style seating, where I proceeded to sleep for the entire half. At the end of the half, I realized Fred was going to be mad at me for sleeping through it, so although I was still drowsy I forced myself to get up, at which point I remembered that I had taken off my shirt and needed to find it. I was sleeping under a flannel blanket so had not been showing anything, and I still had my bra on, but I was quite embarrassed to have slept through the first half while in a partial state of undress.
I felt around for my top while still covered with the blanket and found a white cotton top with colorful stitching, like you’d see in many central and south American countries. Sort of like this. I put it on, and immediately the girl behind me pointed out that that was not my top and instead was hers. So I took it off and gave it to her, rooting around again for my own. When I found it, I remembered that instead I had been wearing a dull, oversized, medium-blue knit top. I put this on and then pointedly (and unfairly) asked the girl whose top I’d stolen whether she was happy now.
Fully dressed and awake again, I noticed that in the seats where we were, the view was blocked so that I could only see the area under one of the baskets, and none of the rest of the court. I started walking around trying to find a seat with a better view, but everywhere I went the view was blocked in various ways. For instance, I found a cushy seat right at mid-court, but when I sat down realized I could only see the baskets, with the entire center of the court being blocked by giant casino slot machines. Think of it as sort of like trying to find a good seat in the old Boston Gardens. Finally, after a bunch of failed attempts, I found a nice seat where I could see the action, but it was in the front row and I thought Fred might see me there and wonder why I was sitting in the front row. I took it anyway. Fred played really well in the game, and his team won by 12 points.
After the game, I was outside the locker room waiting for Fred, and I noticed a big bin of stackable trays of post-game food set out for the players. There was fried chicken, egg salad sandwiches, and one other item I’ve forgotten. I was worried because there were only two egg salad sandwiches, and Fred was a vegetarian and it was the only option he could eat. I kept watch here and there in between some wandering around. At some point I noticed there was only one egg salad sandwich left, and I was worried Fred wouldn’t get it.
One of Fred’s teammates/friends then came out of the locker room and started to flirt with me. He was really cute, but nowhere near as beautiful as Fred, whom I adored, so while I responded with a little banter I wanted to be careful not to give the wrong idea. He asked me why, of all the things I could be doing on a Saturday night, I chose to be there. I held my arms out and looked around and said, “And give up all this?” We both found this incredibly clever and hilarious, and laughed and laughed. Then I thought I’d better move on and not use my substantial feminine wiles on him any more than that. I noted that Fred’s friend had an Eastern European accent and that, if I had to place it, I thought he was from Prague. I thought it important that, when I relayed this encounter to Fred, I tell him that I thought the guy had an Eastern European accent.
Fred then came out of the locker room, and there was still one egg salad sandwich there, but he said he didn’t like to eat egg salad so late at night. He didn’t say why but I suspected it might make him gassy.
Fred was in a great mood because he had played well and his team had won. We got in bed (not sure where the bed came from) – fully clothed and just starting to relax; I was at the beginning of giving him a back massage. Suddenly a little Latina girl, maybe 4-5 years old, scooted up into bed with us. She apologized for interrupting but said she was paralyzed from the waist down. I recognized her and told her that yes, I knew her because I’d seen her being carried around by her older sister, who then also appeared in bed along with 3-4 other young sisters of hers.
We all started talking, and one of the girls mentioned that she was having a baby soon, and Fred said, “Of course you are.” I knew that he didn’t mean that to be racist but had some other reason for saying it, but I was worried that it would appear racist. The girls didn’t seem to think that at all either, though. Whew! I was going to ask Fred later why he did say that.
The girl who was having the baby said that she really wanted a onesie for her baby that had a Dr. Seuss theme, but with dachshunds on it. She had a sketch of what she wanted. Fred started extolling my incredible sewing ability and mentioned that I had done a lot of Dr. Seuss work, though none with dachshunds. I felt fantastic that Fred thought so highly of my work, because he had never said anything like that before and seemed sincere. But I was also worried that he was building up my abilities too much, because I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do something with dachshunds. We started working through how I could adapt one of my Dr. Seuss designs to use dachshunds as well.
Then my cat knocked something off the nightstand and woke me up. End of dream.
Last edited by a moderator:
kevzilla
Footballguy
General Malaise
Footballguy
Had a physical last week. New doctor. No real problems. Did the blood test, pee test, the works. Some minor issues, but nothing I haven't been dealing with in the past. Yesterday, I get an email to lot into "MY CHART" as I have a new message in there (they can't just call me?) and I log-in to learn my doctor wants to schedule an ultra-sound to look at my liver.
That's not good, is it?
That's not good, is it?
Epic Problem
Footballguy
Dan Lambskin
Footballguy
Probably knows a liverologist that needs some extra Christmas money. But yeah get checked out
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
It's better than NOT looking at your liver and missing a serious problem I guess.
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
I immediately thought of fava beans...
Good luck, GM. Look at it this way, if it was something super serious and in an advanced stage, I'm sure your blood and pee work would be giving off signs along with physical signs you wouild notice.
Maybe the new doctor likes doing these liver ultrasound thingies more often than most doctors?
Good luck, GM. Look at it this way, if it was something super serious and in an advanced stage, I'm sure your blood and pee work would be giving off signs along with physical signs you wouild notice.
Maybe the new doctor likes doing these liver ultrasound thingies more often than most doctors?
Dan Lambskin
Footballguy
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
Epic Problem
Footballguy
General Malaise
Footballguy
Thanks - I'm taking meds for cholesterol and high blood pressure so I'm sure that plays a part. But it would have been nice to see some sort of explanation on the note to schedule one, like "hey GM, this is just a precaution because you take X,Y,Z...."
or it might be time to switch to Odules.
General Malaise
Footballguy
Epic Problem
Footballguy
Agreed. Our doctors use that My Chart thing too. Every time they squeeze my wife’s boobies, they put something cryptic in there that makes her worryThanks - I'm taking meds for cholesterol and high blood pressure so I'm sure that plays a part. But it would have been nice to see some sort of explanation on the note to schedule one, like "hey GM, this is just a precaution because you take X,Y,Z...."
or it might be time to switch to Odules.
cosjobs
Footballguy
REminds me of the time I left for PacNW for a vacation and the day I left the doc's nurse left me a voicemail telling me I had tested positive for Hep C. After a ####ty weekend thinking I was going to die, I got ahold of the doc and she said, oh we just found antibodies in your blood that showed you had been exposed to Hep C at some point in your life (thanks sharing joints with hippies), you don't actually have it.Thanks - I'm taking meds for cholesterol and high blood pressure so I'm sure that plays a part. But it would have been nice to see some sort of explanation on the note to schedule one, like "hey GM, this is just a precaution because you take X,Y,Z...."
or it might be time to switch to Odules.
cosjobs
Footballguy
@bostonfred
I seldom remember dreams, but the other night I dreamt I was on a boat fishing and hooked a huge fish. My rod turned into a fence post and I managed to heave a 6 ft white marlin into the boat. The line was all tangled up and ensnared a second, dinosaur looking fish was also landed. At the docks, I was told the other fish was a baby swordfish.
I seldom remember dreams, but the other night I dreamt I was on a boat fishing and hooked a huge fish. My rod turned into a fence post and I managed to heave a 6 ft white marlin into the boat. The line was all tangled up and ensnared a second, dinosaur looking fish was also landed. At the docks, I was told the other fish was a baby swordfish.
Sammy3469
Footballguy
Sweet J
Footballguy
Last edited by a moderator:
Sweet J
Footballguy
While I'm here, I will give an update:
I'm still living at home. It's a little weird, but passable. Absolutely unsure of what we are doing. My wife and I have been going to a marriage counselor who specializes in counseling couple's who are separating (weirdly, if it looks like the couple wants to reconcile, she will refer them to a different counselor for the job of making it work). A strange niche to have, I guess. Tomorrow I go to see the counselor without the wife. I'm a little anxious about it.
Wife and I don't want to kill eachother, so that's nice.
As for other updates: A HUGE part of my anxiety is taken up over my daughter (8th grade) trying out for the high school basketball team. The high school routinely has a girl's varsity program that ranks as one of the top programs for the state (we go to TC Williams High School, of "Remember the Titans" fame). 8th graders in our district can try out for the HS squad.
She is a great athlete, and has great size for her position (she's almost 5'10" and is SOLID; she looks trim but is incredibly strong and must weigh a good 150 or so).
My anxiety stems from the fact, as some of you might know, that she was born without a right hand. So she has to be good enough with what she has to make the team. We've done a lot of practice together (when she'll let me join), and she's a pretty good dribbler with her left, and can even dribble a little with her right. But her real skill now is her low post defense. She is a monster in the paint. I am desperately hoping that the coaches value this.
I've basically parented her by just pretending she has two hands, and let her figure out what she can do, and how to adapt. No special services, or PT or OT visits, no prosthetics or trainers, no special keyboards or velco shoe laces. Just . . . you can figure it out, you got this. But I die inside a little every time I see her fail, even though I know that's how she learns to achieve.
One cool fact -- my daughter told me a couple of weeks ago that the JV assistant coach has MS (I think it's MS), and he told her that he was the first disabled kid in his high school history to letter in a varsity sport (I think cross country). He seems to have taken an interest in her performance. Not a homer interest. And other kids have been incredibly supportive of her. She is skeptical of all of it. She doesn't consider herself disabled, and doesn't want any extra help. She wants to rise or fall on her merits, nothing more. I couldn't be prouder of her. But I'm still a ball of anxiety over making the team.
tagging @jhib, who had some similar experiences and has given me support through the years. How's your daughter doing, buddy?
tl;dr -- my daughter is trying out for sports. :confetti:
I'm still living at home. It's a little weird, but passable. Absolutely unsure of what we are doing. My wife and I have been going to a marriage counselor who specializes in counseling couple's who are separating (weirdly, if it looks like the couple wants to reconcile, she will refer them to a different counselor for the job of making it work). A strange niche to have, I guess. Tomorrow I go to see the counselor without the wife. I'm a little anxious about it.
Wife and I don't want to kill eachother, so that's nice.
As for other updates: A HUGE part of my anxiety is taken up over my daughter (8th grade) trying out for the high school basketball team. The high school routinely has a girl's varsity program that ranks as one of the top programs for the state (we go to TC Williams High School, of "Remember the Titans" fame). 8th graders in our district can try out for the HS squad.
She is a great athlete, and has great size for her position (she's almost 5'10" and is SOLID; she looks trim but is incredibly strong and must weigh a good 150 or so).
My anxiety stems from the fact, as some of you might know, that she was born without a right hand. So she has to be good enough with what she has to make the team. We've done a lot of practice together (when she'll let me join), and she's a pretty good dribbler with her left, and can even dribble a little with her right. But her real skill now is her low post defense. She is a monster in the paint. I am desperately hoping that the coaches value this.
I've basically parented her by just pretending she has two hands, and let her figure out what she can do, and how to adapt. No special services, or PT or OT visits, no prosthetics or trainers, no special keyboards or velco shoe laces. Just . . . you can figure it out, you got this. But I die inside a little every time I see her fail, even though I know that's how she learns to achieve.
One cool fact -- my daughter told me a couple of weeks ago that the JV assistant coach has MS (I think it's MS), and he told her that he was the first disabled kid in his high school history to letter in a varsity sport (I think cross country). He seems to have taken an interest in her performance. Not a homer interest. And other kids have been incredibly supportive of her. She is skeptical of all of it. She doesn't consider herself disabled, and doesn't want any extra help. She wants to rise or fall on her merits, nothing more. I couldn't be prouder of her. But I'm still a ball of anxiety over making the team.
tagging @jhib, who had some similar experiences and has given me support through the years. How's your daughter doing, buddy?
tl;dr -- my daughter is trying out for sports. :confetti:
Last edited by a moderator:
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
OrtonToOlsen
Footballguy
mr. furley
Footballguy
https://sports.yahoo.com/nfl-next-one-handed-shaquem-griffin-195159947.html
this guy is playing college football at a high level with one hand. might be a source of inspiration?? i have no idea
Epic Problem
Footballguy
I think we’ve found squis
